


And So It Goes

by indraaas



Category: Edens Zero (Manga)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, can they sit down and talk it out? maybe, medically accurate because I am a woman of science, so much misunderstanding, some major violence in the first chapter but nothing beyond that, weisz is such a dramatic idiot but tbf he has the right idea, will they? nope they're gonna p i n e
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-09 17:12:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18642475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indraaas/pseuds/indraaas
Summary: Sacrifice isn't a notion Weisz is familiar with, but he supposes ultimately that's what love is. He can't live without her, and that's exactly why he has to do it anyway.





	1. and every time I've held a rose

**Author's Note:**

> Wow what is moderation in life, I'm just gonna...keep dropping weicca pieces...sorry y'all...jokes, I'm not sorry. Not even remotely close.
> 
> So! This fic is gonna be four chapters, updated weekly, hopefully around Sunday (and for my old followers, I actually mean every week this time, I have the chapters outlined) and hopefully not at some ungodly hour. Fair warning, this chapter is a little heavy on the violence but after this it's just...feels. I hope, anyway. 
> 
> Mood music for this chapter (AKA what I had playing on repeat) is 'Alizeh'.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Edens Zero, Mashima does. I just wanna get weicca going here, y'all. I also don't own the song 'And So It Goes' by Billy Joel, on which the title and chapter titles are based.

_And every time I've held a rose_   
_It seems I only felt the thorns_   
_And so it goes, and so it goes_   
_And so will you soon I suppose_

* * *

 

Weisz knows she’s in his room long before he feels her weight bear down on the left side of the bed, but he waits for her arm to sneak around his waist before he yawns in an exaggerated manner and rolls over, trapping her under half his body.

“You’re _late_ ,” he whines into her hair, which smells strongly of flowers.  “Edens Bath _again_?”

Rebecca huffs against his shoulder, and he can’t help but grin a little when he notices she’s drowning in his oversized sweater.  He’ll probably wind up tripping over her clothes on his way to the bathroom in the morning, but it’s a small price to pay to see her swathed in _him_.  

“I’m trying to get my Ether Gear under as much control as I can before our mission tomorrow, and you know the baths help,” she says.  Weisz’s smile slips a little above her head, mulling this over. Rebecca can look after herself, especially when paired with Happy Blaster, but he’s _intimately_ aware of the drawbacks of an immature Ether Gear.  Less refined, less controlled, but overwhelmingly powerful in all the wrong ways.  That last point bothers him the most.

“Show me,” he says, allowing her to push him onto his back so her head is cushioned on his chest and one of her legs is splayed across his.  Rebecca lifts her left hand up in the air and shakes the sweater sleeve down to her elbow, furrowing her brow. Weisz watches her fingers tremble and frowns.  After a moment, light pink runes light up and run down the length of her arm, and she smiles up at him beatifically.

“Ta-dah!”

“What can you do with it again?” he asks idly, though he knows the answer already.  He just needs her to keep talking so he can inspect the runes without her paying too much mind.  They’re half-formed in some places, entirely missing in others. There’s a pink glow in the vicinity of his legs that confirms some of his earlier theories that this isn’t some kind of isolated blaster Gear for her arms.  Still, he recalls trying to upgrade machines back when his own runes were barely there; at one point, there was a room in his house devoted to machines that had been overloaded and short-circuited. He can only imagine how poorly this can go for somebody with combat-heavy Ether like Rebecca.

“You’re doing the thing again,” she deadpans, poking him in the side.

“What thing?”

“The thing where you zone out and start thinking science.  What’s on your mind?”

Weisz holds her left hand up with his right, activating his own Ether Gear.  The blue and pink glows touch in some places, giving light to a hazy purple he’s never quite seen before.

“What do you see?”

“Mine is pink, yours is blue, and colour theory makes it purple,” Rebecca replies, a glint in her eye as she draws their arms closer.  “Though this is _really_ aesthetic.  We could totally take a picture right now and upload it to my channel for my next remix video…”

“ _F_ _ocus_ , princess.  What’s different?”

She sighs irritably and looks closer.  After a minute, she says, “Yours looks more complicated than mine.  Which, ow, I’m turning off now. This is _exhausting_.”

Weisz allows his arm to fall with hers over his heart.  “It’s not more complicated. Mine is fully formed and yours isn’t.  Once you get better at this, it won't hurt to have it activated for long periods of time.” He pauses and wets his lips before adding, “Do me a favour? Don't use it tomorrow.”

Rebecca straddles his waist and sits up, pinning him down and puffing her cheeks out like an angry cat.  It would be almost cute if he wasn't so serious about this.

“Why not?” she demands.  “Weisz, if it helps then-”

“It won't help,” he interrupts, running his hands up the endless expanse of her thighs and rubbing circles into her hips when she tenses above him.  The rush of guilt for insulting her abilities is assuaged only by the fact that he knows, probably better than most on this ship, just how volatile an unhoned Ether can be.   _It's for her safety_ , he assures himself, _even if it sucks a bit right now._

“Rebecca, you're an amazing fighter, but without the supercharged water from the Baths to augment your Ether, you're basically shooting a .50 BMG through a hole meant for a nine mil,” Weisz explains, softening his gaze as he watches it _click_ with her.  He's not gonna pretend he _gets it_ because he really doesn't, though he can understand the self-destructive urge to keep up with her peers - she's the only one of the four without fully functional Ether, and he can imagine feeling a little left behind in the wake of the likes of Shiki and Homura.  

“What if it's an emergency, hm?” she asks, her hair spilling over her shoulder like sunshine.  “What if you're in danger?”

“Oh, princess,” he laughs, surging up to capture her lips.  “When am I _ever_ in danger?”

“You remember how we first _met_? The whole thing with Sibir? Face it, Weisz, you're a walking danger magnet.”

“I'm a walking _chick_ magnet, thank you very much,” he corrects between kisses to her jaw, moving closer to her lips.  “But I think I've found a surface I'm liking staying stuck to for now…”

His hands slip under the sweater to grasp at petal-soft skin as he deepens the kiss, pulling her closer and lavishing her lips.  It's different from their usual nighttime makeout routine. He finds himself more desperate to pry her mouth open and slip his tongue in, digging his fingers into her ribs in a way he _knows_ , like a compass pointing North, will _always_ get her to gasp, as if to assure himself she's still breathing.  Rebecca cards her fingers through his hair and sighs contentedly, drawing his lower lip into her mouth.  

“You keep doing this and we're not going to bed any time soon,” she reminds him, kissing him once more lightly.  “We need to be up early.”

“For a quiche?” he jokes, lying them back and threading a hand through her hair.  Rebecca snorts and gropes around for the blanket, covering them both. She'll wind up stealing all the sheets in the middle of the night anyway, so he makes sure not to tuck it in too close to him.

“Night, Weisz.  Love you.”

“Love you too, princess,” he murmurs, toying with her hairclip as she nods off.  It's one of those clips with a video camera in it for on the go recording, the kind a lot of B-Cubers use to livestream these days.  

His arms are glowing blue again and he _knows_ what he's about to do is _horrifically_ invasive but something about tomorrow has him on edge and he _needs_ some way to make sure she's okay when he's not around to see for himself.  He'll take it off tomorrow night and she'll be none the wiser.

“Machina Maker: O2 saturation monitor.  Heart rate. Blood pressure.” Weisz closes his eyes in a silent apology.  “ _Tracker._ ”

* * *

Theoretically, breaking into guarded headquarters with a distraction to cover you should be easy.   _Theoretically._

On the surface, the plan is simple.  Shiki, Homura, and Rebecca lay waste to the compound of rogue thieves while Weisz slips in and upgrades their system just enough that Hermit can take over from the ship and gather the information she needs.  Then, he’ll head up to the roof and snipe down the stragglers, after which point they'll all head back to Edens Zero and relax until some other pressing matter arises.

Of course, on the surface even _quantum mechanics_ seem simple enough, and then once the equations and ‘exceptions to the rule’ for every rule come out swinging full force it's game over.  In this case, 'game over’ started somewhere between Shiki leaving the ship and five minutes ago, roughly corresponding to the time that explosions started sounding.

Weisz groans and powers up his Ether Gear, pulling up his own screens next to the ones in the room.  This is going to give him the _mother_ of all headaches, but he'll be out soon enough.  He hopes, anyway.

 _“Whoo! Weisz, hurry up, you're missing all the fun!”_ Shiki's voice crackles over the comms.  Not for the first time since this morning, he debates muting him.  

“You seem to be having a time out there.  I'll just keep sipping martinis and watch some classic pornos while I wait for you all to finish up,” Weisz replies as he begins his first set of upgrades.  The _first_ thing on his list is upping the processing speed because not even in X442 was 1.5GHz on a setup _this_ old remotely acceptable.  His other hand brushes up against the CPU as he overrides the heat sink and increases the rate of cooling.  Given how hard Hermit's gonna ride this thing, he might as well try and turn it into a liquid cooling unit while he's here.

 _“You have_ martinis _?_ _”_ Shiki exclaims.

 _“He's being sarcastic, Shiki._ Eyes up here, motherfucker _!”_ Rebecca snarls on her end.  Despite the shrill feedback of her guns going off, Weisz grins.  Even _hearing_ her in action is doing things to his insides that would give doctors cause for alarm.  If she's _this_ pissed, her arms are probably doing that thing where the muscles tense and pull her shirt tighter over her boobs, _God above_ if that isn't a sight he'd be glad to make his last…

“Knock 'em dead, princess,” Weisz says, eyes flicking over to his screen.  Her vitals are displayed in tiny letters just above the section listing what changes he needs to make immediately.  They're holding pretty steady, if not catastrophically high because of the battle, but that's to be expected. She's somewhere near the south side of the building; he makes a mental note to figure out how to get there fastest from here once he's done with this.

He has a gut feeling something is going to happen, and his gut's never been wrong before.

For the first time in a long time, he prays it is.

* * *

 Rebecca _wishes_ this was one of those fights where she could record everything because so far she's made _six_ perfect shots she _knows_ would've drawn in killer views had she been able to.  

Life and Witch aren't fair, so she settles for aiming Happy once more and knocking out another two thieves, hunching over to catch her breath.  She blames her Ether Gear use from last night for how drained she feels this early on. Her arms are shaking - soon she'll be unable to hold Happy up, so she needs to finish this _quickly_ because her hand-to-hand is _not_ as up to par as she'd like it to be, although she does have a butterfly knife tucked between her breasts, just in case.

Speaking of breasts, the freak in front of her is cruising for a bruising if he looks down her shirt _one more goddamn time_.  They're a damn good set of boobs, but he is _not_ on the short list of people approved to give them more than a cursory glance, dammit.

 _“You have_ martinis _?"_ Shiki yells.  One time. They'd given Shiki a martini _one time_ and it's like he's developed a sixth sense for any _mention_ of the drink.  Though, to be entirely fair to her best friend, a martini and some vlogs sounds positively _divine_ right about now.

“He's being sarcastic, Shiki,” Rebecca says, snarling when the freak leers at the rip in her top.  “ _Eyes up here, motherfucker!_ ”

The freak launches himself behind a slab of concrete one of Shiki's gravity switches had upended earlier just as one of her Ether bullets grazes his ear.  Her heart pounding in her ears, Rebecca crouches down behind a chunk of debris and braces her forearms on it, wheezing. Shit. The world is starting to go sideways and with it her aim.  

 _You can always use your Ether Gear_ , her subconscious chimes in, dangling the promise of quick victory over her head like mistletoe.  Rebecca closes her eyes and allows herself to slip a little. It would be _so_ easy to one-shot everyone here with her Ether Gear and be done it with so she can go _home_ and _rest._ Even if it drains her to her core, all she'll need is a little sleep and a dip in Edens Bath and she'll be as good as new.

 _“Knock 'em dead, princess,”_ Weisz's rough voice breaks through the seductive haze her Ether's cast over her, just in time for her to drop to her stomach to avoid the rocks hurled at her head.  Gravel shreds her forearms and knees to ribbons as she crawls to a larger rock to hide behind. No Ether Gear. She promised.

“Is that Weisz Steiner?” The freak calls.  Rebecca immediately stills, trying her best to slow her breaths so it's not so obvious where she is.  How the hell does he know _Weisz_? He was a thief on Norma before this but _her_ Weisz is from fifty years ago, well before this dude's time.  Unless he knows _Professor Weisz_ and is under the impression that's who's on the other line.

“Yeah, so what?” she calls back, glancing down at Happy Blaster.  Her Ether is running _critically_ low.  She tries to hoist the guns up and winces as her elbows lock up and throb in protest.   _Shit_.  Shitshit _shit_.   _Happy_.  She can't let anything happen to Happy.  Not again.

Her hands feel comically weightless once the Blasters turn back to Happy, though her elbows still audibly pop when she tries to flex them.  

“Rebecca? What are you-?”

“Go to Shiki or Weisz,” she says hurriedly, “Or the ship.  Happy, _go now_.”

_“Oi, Becca, what-?”_

“I'm not leaving you,” Happy snaps back stubbornly.  For a second, she has to remind herself not to choke him out.  Why doesn't he _get it_? Why can't he _see_ that she's trying to _help him_? Rebecca exhales shakily and rubs her hands over her heated face.  Focus. _Focus._

“Happy, _please_.  Just.   _Go_.  I don't have enough Ether to keep the Blasters going and I'm not using yours.  If you stay here you'll be hurt. You have to stay safe. Go to Shiki or Weisz.   _Go_.”

“You have to _promise_ you'll be come back,” Happy presses, staring up at her with eyes so full of raw emotion it gives her pause.  She can't lie to him. She won't lie to him. But she needs him gone _now_ , and he’ll stay stuck to her side like a burr if he thinks she won't find her way home.  Swallowing thickly, Rebecca smiles down at her oldest friend in the world and nods.

“Of course.  I'll be back before you know it, okay? Now _go_.”

 _“Rebecca, what the_ fuck _is going on? Hey! Fuck.  Shiki! Homura! One of you two go-”_

“Don't, I got this.” Rebecca yanks the comms out and tosses it to the side.  She's _alone-alone_ now, not a soul to keep her company even in her head and though the thought terrifies her, a wave of steady calm rushes through her veins.  Alone. Nobody here to be hurt but her. Her hands slips between her breasts to retrieve the butterfly knife, which she flips open experimentally.  Homura'd only given her the briefest of tutorials on how to use it, and she hopes she remembers enough to thank her for it later on.

“Weisz Steiner...he screwed shit up real bad for my predecessor, you know?” Ah.  So it _is_ Professor Weisz he's thinking of.  Amusement bubbles up within her despite the gravity of it all - chick magnet her _ass_.  Weisz Steiner is a danger magnet no matter if he's a 72 year old saint, or a 22 year old sinner.  

“Sucks to be him, but what's that got to do with me?”

“'Princess’ he called you.  You his lil’ sugar baby or something?”

Okay, _now_ she's mad.   _Sugar baby_? _Her_? Weisz can barely afford to buy _takeout_ most days because he'd grown so used to stealing to supplant his income that the notion of a _biweekly allowance_ from Witch has him ten kinds of confused and perpetually broke.  As _if_ he could afford her.  Not that she's a sugar baby.  The B-Cubers who are may have the nicest makeup palettes but Rebecca has her fucking _dignity_ thank you very much.

“Or something,” she grits out, peering over the rock to give him a once over.  He's favouring his right side so she needs to strike there and _fast_.  She's small enough that she could slip in and catch him in the ribs, or maybe the shoulder.  She's _also_ small enough that he could crush her with his monster-truck sized hands, she thinks nervously.  Breathe. _Breathe_.  If she can't breathe the world will go topsy turvy and then she'll _really_ be in trouble.

“Old bastard.  I don't like smackin’ around my elders, see.  Wasn't raised in a barn or anything like that.  You, though…” Rebecca's eyes widen as he hones in on her hiding spot, smiling thinly.  Her heart drops when he aims his gun at the rock and says, “You, though, I don't have a problem roughing up.”

The heat of the explosion hits her before the rubble does.  It's so fucking _hot_ she can barely feel the shrapnel embedding itself in her skin.  Her ears are ringing and ringing and it fucking hurts _everywhere_.  Rebecca scrambles up and swings the knife wildly for cover as she tries to find her balance in the chaos.  Homura once told her that a novice with a knife could be the most dangerous person in the room. She hopes to fucking _god_ she was right.

The freak grabs her swinging arm and yanks her close enough to punch her under the ribs.  Her eyes pop painfully, and for a second her lungs are seizing in three different zones out of tandem. _Shitfuckshit_.  

“You abandoned your guns for a knife.  Not much going on up top in you, huh?” He laughs, cocking his arm back once more.  “But from what I hear, that's how he likes 'em.”

The knife falls from the hand in his grip to her other, and it’s so slick with sweat it nearly slips through her fingers, but she has enough of a grip that one deft jerk later, the knife is thrust through the layers of fat covering his side.  He howls and drops her hand, grasping for the knife with thick, grubby fingers just as she grabs the bite handle and _yanks_ so hard the blade flips back, digging into her skin as she falls back onto the ground.

One opening.  She had one opening and it needs to work.  It _needs_ to because he’s _mad_ and has two feet on her and she won’t be able to pull that off again if she tried.  Rebecca shifts to the side, gagging on nothing as her breathing grows shallower. If his earlier hit caught one of her lower ribs there’s a chance it’s broken and pressing into her lungs.  Before she can press and check, he’s launching himself at her with the grace of an enraged bull and if her lung wasn’t fucked before it is now that she’s rolled over to avoid the hit. Her left side feels like there’s a slab of concrete sitting on it and her right side is seizing up to compensate but no matter how hard it tries there’s not enough air.  

“I wonder how we can make this a statement,” he muses, advancing on her as her vision starts tunneling.  No, no, no, no, _no._ Focus.  Focus. Shit, what does she focus on? She has a knife but he has a fucking _gun_ in his belt and Rebecca’s a sharpshooter first and foremost - you never bring a knife to a gunfight.  Fuck. _Fuck._

A knife is better than nothing and he’s still favouring his right side, more so now that he’s bleeding from there.  She can get it again but it needs to be _precise_.  Fourth and fifth ribs.  Shit, how does she find the fourth and fifth ribs this far away? The tang of copper on her tongue is so bitter she can’t even swallow it back; she coughs and coughs and coughs until her head starts spinning, and she coughs some more for good measure because _it keeps coming._

He stomps on her arm and something _snaps_.  First, there’s nothing but radiating, icy numbness that goes from her arm to her chest and stays there.  Then, it’s on _fire._ Her throat can barely cope with her screams and it’s tearing itself to let it all out.  He bears down harder, twisting his boot to dig her bones into the dirt. She can barely see his face through her tears but he looks like he’s _smiling_ at her and every strangled wail only makes it wider.  

“You’re loud.  Does he like that?” He asks, “Or maybe I’m the first.  I haven’t heard him on your comms in a bit. Is he still there?”

The comms.  The fucking _comms_.  Weisz can hear everything.  Or maybe he can’t. Maybe they got destroyed in the blast earlier.  Her teammates will worry and they’ll come for her and be hurt too but god she wants them here so bad, just so the hurting stops.  But if they’re here then they’ll be hurt and Rebecca refuses to let that happen. Even when her chest works against her and her bones are crushed, it’ll be over her dead body that the freak has a chance to get to them.  

That split second where she realizes _it’s all her_ , that _nobody_ is coming, ignites a flame within that burns hotter than her arm, and it’s strong enough that she latch-drops the butterfly knife and _stabs_ it right under his kneecap.  Panicked and wilder than the man above her, she jerks it around, shredding through everything she can get to - ligaments and bone and bursae, fat and skin, his life or hers.  He falls back and she lets go of the knife to hold her shattered arm to her chest, pushing herself onto her good side to ease her way up. He’s not down permanently, not by a long shot, but one of his legs being out of commission gives her enough time to get to Edens Zero and _run_.  

Everything is so _hazy_ and she doesn’t know what to blame it on.  Tears still slip down her dusty cheeks and the blood loss is making her so woozy she’s stumbling over rocks and fallen equipment.  The corners of her vision are starting to go black; Edens Zero is so far. She’s not gonna make it but she has to try. Rebecca goddamn Bluegarden will go down as a _fighter_ in her tribute video if nothing else.  

“Hey! Bitch! You’re gonna fuckin’ _pay_ for that!”

In that moment, three things happen: there’s a booming gunshot, followed by a louder one, and Rebecca’s on the ground before she can figure out if it was an echo or not.

* * *

The machine beeps, and Weisz is ten seconds away from activating his Ether Gear and shutting it up for good.  From where she stands making notes on Rebecca’s chart, Ivry glares at him until the blue glow recedes, and even then she waits for his arms to cross over his chest before looking at the heart rate monitor and nodding.

“Her vitals are holding steady,” Ivry says.

“Her vitals would be steady if she was dead, too, Ivry.”

He doesn’t bother dodging the pencil she whips at his head.  

“Take that tone with me one more time and I’ll have you manually fixing my MRI the next time I see you,” Ivry warns.  The threat bounces off of him easily, mostly because he’s not paying attention to her anymore. That stupid machine is beeping and he swears it’s louder than before - it’s making his skin itch.

“I was thinking a cute sadist like you would have something kinkier in mind,” he shoots back, humourless, “Maybe tie me up and whip me.”

Ivry sighs, a gravity about her that he’s not sure even Shiki can muster.  He _hates_ it, that pity in her eyes.  How can she look at him like that when Rebecca’s right there, lost in a world he can’t retrieve her from?

“Kid, you’ve managed to fool everybody on this ship but me with that aloof attitude of yours.  It’s okay to be upset or worried about all this. She was in real bad shape-”

“You don’t think I _know_ that?” Weisz snaps, gripping his biceps so tightly they’re in danger of breaking.  He hopes they do, just so he can share a bit of Rebecca’s pain. “ _I_ was the one who got there just in _fucking_ time to drag her back here.   _I thought she was dead_.”

The Starshine doesn’t bother pretending he was the only one.  There was so much _blood_ \- from her head, her arm, her mouth.  He didn’t even know it was possible to lose so much and still be breathing - but then again, he hadn’t been sure she was breathing then, either.  In the time between Ivry closing off the hospital bay to deal with Rebecca, Witch had dragged him to the showers and sat outside as he scrubbed himself _raw_ trying to get the blood off.  His battle gear better be burning somewhere.  If it isn’t, he’ll set fire to it himself and try and warm himself on the flames because ever since that day he’s been so fucking _cold_.

“So get mad.  Get sad. Hell, cry a little if you have to, but don’t get pissy with others.” Ivry makes another note in the chart and hangs it at the foot of her bed, pausing to squeeze his shoulder on her way out.  “She’s alive, Weisz. That’s all that matters, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“‘S what I thought.  Now go change, you’ve been wearing that sweater for the past two days and it fuckin’ stinks.”

Two days, then.  Rebecca’s not opened her eyes in _two fucking days_.

The machine beeps.  Her heart rate is cruising at 90.  O2 saturation at 96%. Blood pressure 120/84.  Normal. Healthy. Not like then.

No, when Rebecca’s heart rate hit _one-hundred and fucking thirty-seven_ , Weisz’s heart stopped.  He’d stared at the screen as the world froze over until her blood pressure hit 100/80 and then he was _running._ He didn’t even bother to check and see if Hermit was able to patch through because _fuck_ the mission, fuck _everything_ that wasn’t Rebecca.  He could hear them through the comms.  Faintly, of course, because she’d thrown the stupid thing away, but Weisz has fucking _Machina Maker_ , did she think he couldn’t upgrade all their comms at once through his?

By the time he made it to the roof on the south side, Rebecca was screaming and the _bastard_ was asking if he liked it when she did that.  He’s still not sure how he found the will to keep the comms intact.  He can still hear it ringing in his head. But, really, what sticks with him the most is that by the time he upgraded his assault rifle to a sniper and braced it on his forearm, the bastard had a gun aimed at her turned back and his finger was squeezing the trigger but it didn’t fucking matter because, down there, he shot, too.

Through the scope, Weisz saw it _all._

Her head snapped to the side and he couldn’t jump to the ground fast enough to get to her.  There was so much fucking _blood_ on her face and the chunks of rock near her looked like bits of brain and his fingers were shaking so much there was no pulse or breaths and he didn’t even think to use the the monitors he’d equipped on her because his arms were full of _her_.

The screaming won’t stop and every time he closes his eyes, the bullet is breaking through her skull.

Shower.  He needs to shower and get this sheen of cold sweat off of him.

* * *

When he returns, Homura is by Rebecca’s bed, face as impassive as ever.

“She did well with the knife I gave her,” Homura says once Weisz takes up his vigil again.  “For someone with no experience, I mean. She would’ve been better off with Happy but her Ether was low.  Odd. We were in Edens Bath the night before.”

His heart catches.  Ether depletion. From when he’d made her activate it in bed that night.   _Fuck_ , everything about this just comes back to him.  If he hadn’t - if he’d just told her to rely on Happy - she wouldn’t be like this.  She’d be okay.

“Shiki told me not to tell you this, but we heard everything on the comms, too.  He said it would make you upset. You knew the person who did this to her?”

“No,” Weisz manages to get out from the thick, painful clog in his throat.  “No, the me from this timeline is who he meant. He must’ve heard some audio of us from back then.”

“Ah.” Homura nods.  It’s quiet for a while then, long enough that he can force the heaviness in his throat down to join the one in his chest.  He won’t break down. He’s _Weisz Steiner_ , dammit, and he _does not cry_.  Why should he cry? It won’t change anything.  Rebecca will still be unconscious, and he’ll still stay up the whole night because every time he tries to sleep she’s dead in his arms before the hour’s over.  Everything keeps replaying in his head over and over again, and he’s breaking it down like it’s some stupid _system_ he can fix.  Everything is a mistake on his part - the upgrades could have been done faster if he hadn’t been so obsessed with making it run smoother for convenience; he could’ve equipped the Ether in the area to pump up faster so she had enough energy to shoot him; _he could have gotten there sooner._

Ultimately, that’s all it boils down to for him - he could have gotten there sooner.  

“Perhaps we should look into advancing her Ether Gear if this is to be a recurring event,” Homura says.  Weisz’s neck cracks audibly as he looks up at her, equal parts indignant and horrified at her suggestion.

“ _What_?”

“Do you not wish for her Ether to-?”

“Not that.  What do you mean _recurring_?”

“I shouldn’t say this, but you have made yourself quite the target.  I imagine now that your relationship with Rebecca is public knowledge, your enemies will use this to their advantage,” Homura explains, shrugging her shoulders delicately.  “Although, I suppose this is a one-time affair. You do not seem the type to allow for these things to happen more than once.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Weisz says, sinking into his chair, head spinning.  “This won’t happen again.”

“Good.  I like Rebecca.  I look forward to seeing her well.” Homura bows shortly to the both of them, leaving the room so silently he has to crane his neck back to make sure she’s gone before exhaling shakily.

Homura’s right.  Weisz knows fifty years back he had a lot of enemies, and he can’t imagine he hit a magic break at some point shortly after that transformed him into the saintly Professor, so he has to assume there are more he’s not even aware about, nevermind the new ones he’s sure to find with Edens Zero.  Rebecca can _fight_ , yes, but that’s not the fucking point anymore.  If these enemies, whoever they are, find out that Weisz has _one_ weak spot, they’ll exploit it until it shatters and Rebecca’s already broken too much because of him.  

For once, Weisz has to be selfless.  He wants her more than anything he’s ever coveted before, but if her being by his side means her being hurt, then he can’t do it anymore.  He has to let her go.

The air leaves his lungs in one go at the thought.  He’s grown complacent. It shouldn’t be this hard to let go.  He’s done it before, he reasons between little choked gasps for air and the sudden urge to ball up and cry, he’s done it _so many times_ with treasures he can’t afford to hold onto.  There’s always something better out there, he used to tell himself, something bigger and worth more.  But this is _Rebecca._ She’s not money or machines or an artifact he can sell to the highest bidder.  Rebecca’s not _replaceable._ She’s not someone he can live without.

His head throbs behind his eyes.  He can barely _think_ , but he knows, despite the haze, that that’s just _it_ \- he has to learn to live without her because he _can’t live without her_.  

This was too close for _anyone’s_ comfort, and he’d sooner die watching her safely from the sidelines than ever put her in this position again.  

Weisz holds onto the mattress as he stands up.  He doesn’t trust his jello-like knees to keep him from collapsing.  Rebecca looks peaceful in spite of the heavy gauze around her head and the nasal cannula blowing cold oxygen into her lungs.  Cold. Of course, she’s probably cold. She always steals their blankets at night and the hospital bay sheets are so thin. He slips off his heavy sweater and lays it on top of her, tucking the sleeves under her arms and pulling the hood up enough that it covers her neck.  

What does he say now? Goodbye? He’ll still see her when she wakes up, but it feels like something is gone for good now and he _needs_ to.  He doesn’t want to, of course, because goodbyes are forever, so he leans down and kisses her, feather-light, brushing his knuckles over her cheek again and again.

“Love you, Rebecca,” he murmurs.  “I’m sorry. For _everything_.”


	2. but if my silence made you leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK SORRY I'M LATE I WOUND UP REWRITING THE WHOLE LAST HALF OF THIS CHAPTER BECAUSE UHHHH IT FIT KINDA.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own EZ, I don't own the song 'and so it goes'

_But if my silence made you leave_   
_Then that would be my worst mistake_   
_So I will share this room with you_   
_And you can have this heart to break_

* * *

Rebecca sinks into Edens Bath, groaning at the blistering heat of the water. Homura's  _right_  - this shit  _burns_ , and not in a good way. Her newly healed ribs throb in protest when she leans against the side of the bath, resting her arm on the ledge so the brace remains dry. Ivry'd said that, although she'd healed the break, it would be best for her to stay splinted for a couple extra days as a security measure. It still hurts like a  _bitch_ when she flexes her fingers, even after the painkiller patches, just like the rest of her.

"I would suggest training but I do not think that is advisable at the moment," Homura says from where she's lowering herself into the water, slow as a falling bubble. "You do not look well."

"Yeah, let's give it a few days," Rebecca laughs weakly, sinking so low the water covers her chest. The humidity of the baths paradoxically makes breathing easier, and the increased pressure from the water slows everything down, even if she feels like she's choking from the inside after a while.

"Hey, guys!" Shiki comes out of  _fucking nowhere_  and has her slipping under before she scrambles to sit upright and launch a stray flower at his head.

"Shiki, what the  _hell_?"

"Sorry! I heard you two in the pool and figure'd we join you for some team bonding!"

Homura perks up at 'team bonding', a sudden, almost predatory glint in her eyes that Shiki has no idea spells his doom.  _Although_ , Rebecca thinks,  _he might actually get a_ kick  _out of this…_

"Team bonding...a form of training, then?" Homura asks.

"Hm...yeah, it can be!" Shiki replies cheerfully, floating over to the middle of the room and belly-flopping into the water. He pops out with rose petals stuck to his hair and absently sticks one in his mouth. Rebecca's amused for all of three seconds before it hits her that he said  _we_  instead of  _I._

Her skin pricks up as  _he_  stops behind her, and despite the heat of the bath, she's shivering. On the outside, anyway - inside is a wholly different affair. Inside, everything is  _unbearably_ hot and squirming, flip-flopping between being too full and too empty but always,  _always_ craving more.

"Ah, Shiki, just came to let you know. Something came up in the East Wing with the lasers I've been trying to upgrade. I won't be able to join you all, sorry."

His voice is perfectly calm and just a touch too blank to be believable, but Shiki accepts it with a pout regardless. Rebecca fucking  _knows_ better, though, she might be blonde but she's not  _stupid_.

"Aw, man, you sure it can't wait? Rebecca just got well enough to leave the infirmary!"

There's an awkward pause where she can  _feel_ his eyes on the back of her neck, and it's the weight of that gaze that keeps her frozen as he continues his probe all the way over to her splinted arm. Try as hard as she might, her arm refuses to move the way she wants it to, and it's like she's back having her bones ground into the gravel all over again.

The feeling is gone as quickly as it had come when he clears his throat and says, "Yeah, sorry. It's good to see you doing better, Rebecca."

"Thank you," she replies steadily, though a seething part of her wants to drag him in and hold him underwater until he tells her  _everything_.

"It's weird, those lasers were workin' fine yesterday…"

"I think he is avoiding you, Rebecca," Homura says, watching her curiously. "Did you dissolve your relationship?"

"Eh? You broke up?" Shiki exclaims, cutting across the water impossibly fast to crouch in front of her, grasping for her shoulders. "Why?"

"We didn't break up!" Rebecca snaps, curling in on herself. Fuck her brace, she'll just get Ivry to give her a new one later. "Or...I don't  _think_ we did."

Breakups are supposed to be more final than whatever this is. It's not like she expects some sort of teen-drama-esque blowout, with screaming, stomping, tears, and a sorrowful kiss goodbye, but at least that way she knows it's  _over_. There's supposed to be  _resolution_. She's supposed to know  _why,_ but she doesn't and that's what's driving her insane.

Ever since she woke up it's like everything shifted three inches to the right. At first nothing was different, even though deep down she  _knew_ , sure as her own shot, something was  _wrong_. Ivry had checked her over while Witch held Shiki back from hugging her too tightly, and Homura offered her rather candid feedback on her knife skills; even Hermit came out from hiding with a box of chocolates in hand ("Don't tell Ivry I was hiding them.") with Mosco right behind her holding a bouquet of flowers. It was  _fine._ Everything was  _fine_.

And then they all left and it was just Rebecca and his sweater and the oddest sense of calm settled under her ribcage when she realized  _Weisz hadn't come_.

The calm has been an airtight seal holding everything together up until now. Homura's observation pokes a tiny hole through her defense, just enough that it goes a little slack and her heart thuds uncomfortably within her newly healed ribcage, searching for the new breaking point.

She's come up with every excuse under the cosmos for him, but the fact of the matter is he's not so much as looked her way during the brief moments he allows them to be in the same room, and Rebecca doesn't know  _why._ Everything changed after the mission but what  _about_ that mission triggered the change she has no idea  _because she doesn't remember anything._

Ivry'd assured her it was common after traumatic head injuries. Almost permanent retrograde amnesia, followed up by temporary anterograde amnesia, and the occasional island of memory if she were lucky - or unlucky. She's not sure which is which at this point, but the fact of the matter is that when she closes her eyes and thinks hard enough to induce migraines, she doesn't  _remember_ , she  _feels_  - broken bones and the bullet going through her skull and biting, numbing  _cold_.

Rebecca closes her eyes, sliding under the water, and goes back there, just for that numbness once more.

* * *

"Mother _fuck_  me," Rebecca snarls, stabbing the lid of the jar with a butter knife again. It dents, but otherwise doesn't budge when she tucks the jar into the crook of her elbow and twists with her functional arm.

"So much for  _that_ video," she mutters glumly as she taps the red dislike button and tosses her B-Cube on the counter. When she finds out who screwed on the stupid strawberry jam jar lid this tight, they're dead meat. She'll force them to be her step-stool for all the obscure ingredients on the second shelf, and then they can be her jungle gym for everything on the third.  _That'll_ make for a killer video: 'broken arm life hacks'. Probably won't wrangle in as many views as the wisdom-tooth extraction ones, but it'll be something.

Just as she resigns herself to slightly-burnt toast for lunch, Weisz grabs the jar and pops the lid off, reaching for the butter knife and bread after.

"You look like you need a hand," he says after slathering half of one slice in jam. Rebecca nods wordlessly, watching his hands. She can't bring herself to look at his face, not when his presence alone swipes her knees out from her and not in the way he used to at first. Back before they were dating and he'd wink at her from across the room, or during team meetings when he'd lean against the back of her chair so his fingers could brush against her hair; it's terrifying how easily the same sensations she once associated with love have quickly come to represent anxiety.

"Thank you," she says. She's been saying that a lot to him lately,  _thank you_.  _Fuck you_  is slightly more apt here, the raging, betrayed part of her immediately thinks.  _Fuck you for ghosting me. Fuck you for not telling me why._

It's quiet for a while then. Rebecca feels ready to burst and she's not sure why. She needs to do  _something_  or she'll implode and take him with her. She runs a hand through her hair, tucking it behind one burning hot ear, relishing in the way the cold air feels against it. Fuck, she wishes she had a hair tie. Her neck is feverish.

Weisz stares at her, statue still. The knife slips through his grasp and paints his fingers strawberry-red but he doesn't pay any heed to it. His face is still an empty canvas but Rebecca's the artist who's painted it every colour of the rainbow before, and she  _knows_ what to look for: the tightening of his jaw, the arrogant arch of his brow dropping to tense evenness, the brief flare in his eyes before they harden.

_Why is he scared?_

"You feeling any better?" he asks suddenly, adjusting his grip on the knife and going on as if nothing occurred.

"Um, yeah. From before. My head still hurts a bit from time to time, but…better than dead, am I right?"

Weisz throws the knife in the sink so hard it leaves a scratch in the steel, his fingers twitching rapid-fire before he slides her plate over and nods. "Yeah. Much better."

"How have you been?" Rebecca asks hesitantly, reaching for one of the slices.

He shrugs lightly. "Busy. Lot of work around the ship before we dock in Jal for supplies."

_That_ throws her for a loop. Jal? She doesn't remember being told they were doing that. Her confusion must show on her face because Weisz's cool expression breaks to mirror her own.

"You don't remember? We talked about this before you - before."

She shakes her head. "No. I don't remember anything after we split up for the mission. Ivry said it was-"

"Retrograde amnesia," he finishes, pale around the edges. She watches him reach for the second slice of toast and take a absent-minded bite before realizing it and holding it out like it's poisoned. "Sorry. I don't know-"

"It's okay. I'm not too hungry anymore, you can finish it." Rebecca puts her untouched toast back on the plate and brushes the crumbs off on her pant leg as she heads back to her room. Before, she would've cleaned her hands on his sweater and laughed at his half-hearted complaints about doing the laundry.

But he wouldn't've said sorry about sharing her food; her stomach churns uneasily at the thought. Perhaps it's for the better she hasn't eaten anything today. She's not sure she can hold much down these days.

* * *

Jal's one of those planets that Weisz imagines is a lot like living on the inside of a marble. The sky is a swirling, unnatural blue, shot through with streaks of silver that might be clouds. Pillars of water shoot up every couple hundred feet, seemingly frozen all the way up to the sky, but he knows if he touches them his hand will go right through and the water will push on smooth as ever around it.

Shiki is  _enamoured_.

"How does that  _work_?" the younger male gasps, struggling against Weisz's iron-clan grip on the back of his shirt. A couple women nearby raise their brows at the scene, and he ducks his head, groaning. If Jal's anything like it was fifty years ago, then the women here are absolute  _gossip mongers_  and news of the strange floating boy will make its away across the whole planet before they converge for dinner. So much for staying low-key.

"Laminar flow, Shiki," Weisz supplies as evenly as he can. It's hard to remember that Shiki's got the same eye for engineering as he does when  _this shit_ has him going fucking bonkers.

Shiki makes a face. "Navier-Stokes?"

"Yup."

"Gross."

"Tell me about it."

Nearby, Rebecca fiddles with her hairclip, gazing around in awe; a sight that would once have him grinning instead has his chest squeezing painfully. Jal's famed for its bathhouses and restorative springs. He remembers one in particular from his travels that he's certain only the born-and-raised in the outskirts of city Jalian's know about, one he wants so desperately to share with her, to make it  _their_ thing instead of  _his_.

But there is no 'they'. Not anymore.

" _Alright, you all remember the plan, right?"_  Witch's voice crackles through the comms. " _We're docked here for a day or two, so once you get the supplies we need you're all free to roam around for a bit."_

" _Weisz and Rebecca-"_

"Change of plans," Weisz interrupts quickly, keeping his gaze focused on the looming towers of water so he doesn't have to meet Rebecca's hurt eyes. "I'm gonna split off and find those oils you needed for Edens Bath instead of the flowers. I remember an apothecary from my time that keeps the stuff."

" _This apothecary wouldn't happen to double as brothel, would it?"_ Ivry asks snidely.

Weisz smiles carelessly and retorts, "They prefer to call it a  _very hospitable inn_. It's a two in one for us, I get the oils and I get the l-"

"I'll go look for the herbs Ivry needed," Rebecca cuts in loudly with a final adjustment to her hairclip. "If it's in the middle of the woods then I think it'd make for a cool vlog. I'll meet you all back on the ship tomorrow, yeah?"

Weisz watches her go, biting the inside of his cheek harshly to keep himself from calling out to her. Jal is  _safe_  but Happy's back on the ship with Pino and Rebecca's  _alone_. The last time she was alone -

" _You're loud. Does he like that?"_

" _Hey, bitch! You're gonna fuckin'_ pay  _for that!"_

It's not a gunshot that snaps him out of his stupor this time, but Homura's disdainful sniff in his direction.

"You break relations with her, lust after other women just to rub it in, and then watch her go with that look on your face?" Homura's eyes are as cold and depthless as the swirling lakes on the southern tip of the land. "Shameless."

" _Men,"_ Ivry sighs. " _Makes me glad I've been riding Witch's beautiful a-"_

" _Ivry."_

" _I'm not sorry."_

" _I'm well aware."_

Weisz drops Shiki and turns around sharply, heading for the building he's a little ashamed to admit he knows the way to better than the local hospital. "I'll see you all later," he calls shortly, allowing a familiar cloak of hypersexual swagger fall over him. "I've got stuff to do."

* * *

Standing three storeys shorter than the buildings surrounding it, what  _Mohini_ lacks in height and outward grandiose it makes up for in opulence on the inside. The black marble interior grants a touch of claustrophobia that is only offset by the heady lavender in the air. At first glance, the floor is a perfect mirror of the ceiling, and it's only when it begins to ripple upon walking do most realize they're standing on enchanted water - even fewer realize how fortunate they are for this thin barrier between them and what lies beneath.

Weisz approaches the high counter, smiling at the woman behind it. "Hello, gorgeous. I assume the reason you're here and not back there is because-"

"I'm the pharmacist?" She raises a thick brow his way.

"Well, that's one way to use your knowledge of blood-pressure medications." He pulls out the list of oils Witch had him write and unfolds it, handing it over to her. "You got all these?"

She gives it a cursory glance and traces numbers into the cold marble surface, settling on a number. "It'll cost you quite a bit for these quantities."

"I got more than enough," Weisz says smoothly, "For that and a little time in the VIP massage area."

"You have not changed, Weisz Steiner," a familiar voice says from behind him, amused, "Neither in this timeline nor your natural one."

"Ah, but Roop, you wouldn't have me any other way."

Looking at Roop is like looking at a drop of water in an amber pillar - beautiful, yet incomprehensibly ancient. She's not aged a day since he last met her fifty years ago; her hair still falls to her waist in heavy waves, crowned with thick pearls, and her eyes are as dark and depthless as ever, rimmed in heavy black kohl. She tilts her head and her red lips curl up into a wicked smile as she gives him a once over.

"I much prefer your older self. He is, at the very least, not as lost as you. Come," Roop says, nodding at the pharmacist behind him. "Payal, please inform me when you are done with Weisz's order."

"Of course."

Weisz follows her through the dark halls, gaze fixed on the shimmering blue robe Roop dawns. The passage to her private quarters are twice as guarded as the rest of the place, and he's in no mood to piss off some snake demon under his feet if he looks at it wrong. The waterfall at the end of the corridor parts easily at her wave, and Weisz is hit with the familiar scent of sandalwood and leather as he's led to the low sofas to sit.

It's only been a few months since he's been here from his perspective, but after Norma, everything about this place, from the reliably full tray of sweets to the way the pillows are perfectly fluffed for him to lean on, reminds him of  _home_. Or, rather, as close as he can get to one.

"Your older self was here a while back," Roop says conversationally, filling their mugs with tea and taking a sip. "I did tell him you'd visit within the year, though he was quite adamant it would take you longer."

"How many people can say they underestimated themselves without realizing it?"

"About as many who can say they are content with lying to themselves as you are." The billowy sleeve of her robe falls to her elbow as she waves her arm, Ether Gear glowing soft blue, and a scaly tail as thick as a small tree bursts forth from the floor, snapping the table in half and dragging it down with it. As the tip of the tail disappears into the abyss below, the ripples coalesce into a globe that floats up, hovering between them. For a second, all he sees is the distorted image of Roop's face through the water, and then there's Rebecca yelping as she trips over a gnarled root.

Weisz barely keeps the tea in the cup as he jerks with her, eyes immediately falling to her splinted arm. She's cursing under her breath as she rubs it, but it looks okay.  _It's okay, she's okay, she's okay, she's_ okay.

"Heart rate 87. I can't say the same for you, though."

The blond forces himself to look away from the water to where the mystic is indicating. His Ether Gear, darker than hers, is active and Rebecca's vitals hover on a small screen next to him. The tracker glows red, blinking steadily as it traces her journey through the woods. Shit. Shit, he'd forgotten to take that off her.

"Tell me about her," Roop says.

"You already know. You always do," Weisz mutters, crossing his legs and bracing his arms on his knees, running his hands through his hair. It's a weak imitation of what Rebecca used to do when the world was bearing down on his shoulders and only she could see it - but Rebecca isn't here and he has to learn to live with that. He needs to.

"Humour me."

"Her name's Rebecca, she's my…" he swallows against his suddenly dry throat, " _Was_ my…"

"Go on."

"She's a vlogger. My  _other_ self was her benefactor and-"

"Weisz, I know all this," Roop interrupts, watching him carefully. He prides himself on his ability to get a read on  _anyone_ but it's always been hard with her; she doesn't have a tell that she doesn't purposefully give away, and right now all he can make of her softened features is the overwhelming sense of  _understanding_.

" _Tell me about her_."

"She's just... _Rebecca_. It's like she doesn't have a care in the world, she just wants to explore  _everything_. She's this fucking...I don't know, this system I can't seem to figure out. Every time I think I do there's something underneath and everything I knew before is moot because of it but I can't stop. I look at her and I feel like I finally have something keeping me  _grounded_. Not like before, though. I don't feel compelled to stay, I  _want_ to."

"And yet, you left," Roop murmurs, twitching her fingers. The scene changes - it's him hunched over her in the hospital. Is that  _him_? Is that what he looks like when he's with her? The expressive eyes, tense shoulders, crumpled brow? He can't remember the last time he ever  _allowed_ himself to show anything other than the carefully crafted range of emotions he's known for. Vulnerable. That's the word. He's vulnerable.

"For her own good," he snaps, "She's safer this way."

"Who are  _you_ to determine what is and is not good for her?" she asks, flicking her wrist once more. It's him and Rebecca again, this time in the kitchen. Weisz waits for her to brush her hair back and jabs at the water. Though his finger doesn't go through, it's impossible to miss what he's pointing at; the round, puckered, pink scar just below her temple that stands out like a target for all his failures.

"There," he breathes heavily, tapping the spot once more, " _That_ is how I know. I know she's better off without me because  _this_ wouldn't have happened if I wasn't such a fucking screw-up. That bastard went after her because of  _me_ , because of  _us_ , me and that old Professor. Did you tell him that when he came? That this was our fault?"

"I did," Roop replies evenly, ever the calm ocean surface. Nothing  _ever_ fazes her, though he knows underneath she must be  _roiling_. "He felt guilty, yes, but he did not take the blame as personally as you are."

"Good for him. Guess he's got his shit under more control than I do."

"Ah, but that is where you are wrong, Weisz. It's just the opposite - the Professor is this at ease  _because_ he is  _less_ in control. He allows himself to  _feel_ , unlike yourself."

Feeling.  _Feeling_. He's allowed himself to  _feel_ in the past, for his long dead parents and the few friends who abandoned him when he let them in, and then for Rebecca and it was supposed to be  _different_. Love isn't supposed to  _hurt_ and leave him feeling pain when he's perfectly whole and healthy, but he closes his eyes and watches her fall and it's like a part of him goes with her every time.  _Feeling_ does  _nothing_ for him, it never has.

"She is going to have her own enemies, Weisz. How are you going to blame yourself then?"

"She has her own enemies but at least  _mine_ won't be hurting her to hurt  _me_."

"So that's it, then," Roop says, looking like she's just found the missing piece to a thousand-piece-puzzle. "You were  _scared_. You haven't been scared in a long time, have you? And not just fear for yourself and your own heart, but for  _another_ and  _that_ is what this is. You're  _scared_ of  _feeling_."

"I feel," Weisz protests, throwing his cup to the ground. The fucking demons lurking beneath can have the rest for all he cares. "I feel happy when I fix things, I'm happy on Edens Zero, I get  _mad_ when-"

"Those are safe emotions," she cuts him off again, must to his ire. God,  _this_ is why he hates coming here. She  _knows_ what he needs to hear but she forces him to talk it out until he  _figures_ it out anyway. It's like having a mind-reading therapist, except worse because he can't lie to her.

"So? Who cares?"

"No matter how many...we'll use your word,  _happy_ emotions you feel, you will be a very lonely man if you never allow yourself to hurt, Weisz. You've spent your whole life surrounding yourself with machines and robots and beings that, fundamentally, are replaceable. Things that can break and you can fix and not feel bad for, but you cannot fix Rebecca, no matter how powerful your Ether Gear is."

_She doesn't need fixing_ , he wants to choke out from the lump in his throat.  _I just don't want to be why she's broken in the first place._

Roop allows him a moment before she presses on, gentler this time. "You love her and have given her pieces of you that you've never given another. If she is hurt, so are those pieces and it's easier to keep them separate to keep them safe than it is to continue to allow them to coexist, but do you not see how this hurts you  _both_? Look at her, Weisz. Tell me you've kept her safe from pain by doing this."

The globe ripples gently and Rebecca is sinking into Edens Bath as he leaves, curling in on herself smaller and smaller until she can't anymore. His fingers are so  _cold_ on his skin and there's a barely-there tremble all the way down to his bones as he watches her face crumple. It  _hurts_ a visceral part of him but how can she not see that this is  _best_ for them both? The pain is temporary, he's reasoned this out himself a million times. It will hurt but they will move on and she will find someone else and it will hurt again but eventually it  _won't_. It  _can't_. Eventually he'll be numb again and she'll be happy, as it should be.

Her being alive is all he should want for, but her being by his side is what he  _needs_ , more than anything on this planet and the next and the one after it.

"Inevitably, to live is to feel pain, so why do you  _guarantee_ yourself pain by doing this just to avoid the  _possibility_ of it in the future?"

For once, he doesn't know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is just...copious pining weicca moments.
> 
> If anyone can guess why the water is hotter for Rebecca this time around, kudos to you! I slipped in a little reason why, you just have to peer in real close.
> 
> Please Review!
> 
> -Eien

**Author's Note:**

> So the whole 'quiche' thing is based off that one text post like 'do you want a quickie' 'a WHAT' 'you know the egg thing' 'QUICHE. YOU MEAN QUICHE'. So Weisz is asking for a morning quickie. Does he get one? Only I know.
> 
> Also, if anyone guesses the respiratory physiology joke nested in here, I will cry.
> 
> See you next Sunday/Monday!
> 
> Please review!
> 
> -Eien


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